Temple Of Terror
by A Schoolday
Summary: Two children of a Japanese-Canadian family are brought to their mother country for a museum tour that is suspected to provide them with information on their ancestors. What is the mysterious kanji markings Tracy soon discovers on her body? Tower of Terror spin off fic request, as well as final GB fic for a long time.
1. Chapter 1

They say the day Orochi was born, Japan had it's first monsoon. Hokkaido, known exclusively as "Ezochi" during the Nara period through the Heian period when it occurred, was never susceptible to such extreme weather. The powerful Japanese storm god Susanoo was blamed by its people, which inspired the name of the latest edition to her dynasty. Orochi would sometimes be labeled as the _Demon Queen_ or the _Demon Snake Queen_ by believers of the rumor that she was a cursed descendant of the reptile with several crowns that Susanoo slain.

The caustic titles haunted poor Orochi; the heiress was beginning to be under the shared impression that she was born bad. The people of Ezochi were skeptical about a potential demon ruling over them. At public events where Orochi was obliged to attend, pedestrians and even a few of her servants would don oni masks covering their cowardly faces from the evil spirits they anticipated. She used to be terrified of the simian faces with tusks in their snarl as a younger princess. Reaching the age when she was informed about their significance made her more sad than anything else. How could a child be evil? How could anyone who has not done anything beforehand be evil?

Burdened by constant negative attention has hardened the nursing heiress but had a terrible impact on her psyche. Orochi was described as forgetful and confusing by servants who witnessed her changing behavior. She had two sides of her character - one was the micheavous grinning princess, one was the indifferent ruthless queen. The alters referred to themselves by their own individual names, Princess Rion and Queen Shion. Rion spoke very fast and liked to be in the nude while Shion had the tendency to hurt herself using medical knives and was responsible for spattering the wooden floorboards with her blood. Together they made Demon Queen Orochi who forbid ever being questioned about this fractured piece of her identity. But by then it was too late... everyone concluded that she was possessed.

A shrine maiden was hired to cure Orochi's poisoned soul, then others were hired to help. Their grueling exorcisms were ambitious but she was a lost cause. Orochi had to be locked away within a magic sword with the assistance of a powerful seal. The most capable of the maidens preformed a ritual which ended in her piercing deep inside the shell of a woman. The public of Ezochi were told that their queen has committed suicide, but her immortal soul was buried alive in the grave of a blade.

#

Present day, Canada

"We were kings! We were kings!"

Tracy stuffed her aching ears with fingers and depended on her eyes to see if it was safe to hear again. Her brother Jack was break-dancing in their dining room, literally up and doing circles around her. She violently shut the laptop, demanding he stopped instantly. Tracy was far too intelligent to take a free online ancestry tracking test to heart. Even a carbon dating analysis wouldn't convince her that she was a distant relative generations apart to ancient Japanese royalty. It was absolutely preposterous, how could anyone see Jack Tamago as a modern prince? The only thing he could be prince of is prince of annoying, Tracy thinks humorously.

The Japanese-Canada family of Tamago, except the critical Tracy, were engrossed by the idea of royal ancestry. They scheduled a vacation to the Land of the Rising Sun in the month of June; Mrs. Tamago made reservations at a cheap motel that barely had enough free rooms to house them. The plane ride will last around nine hours to land in Hokkaido where they plan to reside for a half a week.

Jack safely packed his _Pokemon_ cards in a double tied rubber-band, in front was a holographic rare card with print written entirely in Japanese symbols. He claims that he intends to make friends with a local that will translate all of his non-English cards. Why he couldn't just google was beyond Tracy, who could barely muster the enthusiasm to have her things ready for vacation. Tracy packed away only one item a month until June approach and her backpack was stuffed to the seam. She was in charge of the plain tickets which may have not been a good idea on her parent's part, because all she could think about was burning them in a lit kitchen stove.


	2. Chapter 2

Tracy Tamago texted her Canadian friends as she was taken away further and further away from home. She told Lucy to stop watching Grey's Anatomy until her return, let Reese know she missed her and then released her dread onto Delilah. Once her dairyer was in a seat inside an airplane, Tracy was on her own. She did not love to fly in general but this particular plane found a way under her skin. Filled with rows of obnoxious passengers who snored loudly, chewed loudly and sang loudly. Jack was among them, he babbled about the ideas he had thinking about Japan.

The motels in Hokkaido were much more pleasant than their Canadian counterparts. Even the inexpensive one that the Tamagos selected was as good as any Trump hotel. A line of exotic painted artwork hung over the head of their Samsung television set. The only part of the room that Tracy took issue with were the beds, because she thought futons were uncomfortable. But it came with the territory and they had to assimilate to Japanese customs. At the very least, she did not have to share; her parents would sleep side by side on one futon while she would take the other, leaving Jack with his sleeping bag. Tracy wasted no time setting camp and emptied out her backpack. She plugged her battery-depleted smartphone into the wall outlet behind her bed.

The outside of their room met the match of the inside, complete with a bench for train spotting attendees. Tracy sat down on it to watch the wonderful greenery of the village but all Jack cared for was the vending machine that accompanied it nearby. Instead of snacks and bottled drinks, it provided him with toys and card packets. They were of the baseball (strictly Japanese teams he wouldn't be familiar with, however), _Yu_ - _Gi-Oh!_ and _Pokemon_ variety.

"I want to get that banned Misty card where she's naked." Jack smiled and inserted a dollar bill in the slot that the machine rejected a second afterwards. He repeated his action but it refused to accept the money for payment.

"It only takes yen, stupid," Tracy connived. She pondered when exactly will her parents will exchange their Japan inappropriate money for the foreign cash that they need.

When asked, Mrs. Tamago said she intends to do so when her children are keeping themselves busy on a tour. She dropped the pair off by a bus stop and told them to watch out for a tall yellow. Their mother and father will use the opportunity to prepare themselves like responsible tourists as long as Tracy and Jack do the same. Mr. Tamago says it was essential for them to be educated on their roots but this was going to be a chore for both of the children. Jack only wanted to enjoy himself by having access to everything he wished to have or do but couldn't in Toronto, and Tracy didn't even want to be on the trip in the first place. All because she let her brother take an unreliable ancestry test on the internet.

An enormous bus the color of Big Bird came rolling by Tracy and Jack. The tour instruction almost ignored them and assumed they were average citizens due to their race, but once Tracy called for him to stop in perfect English, he parked. The doors of the bus swung open for them to board it as the driver invited the siblings. If Tracy did not live in Canada, she would feel out of place being surrounded by mostly white and non-Asian people.

The guide basically summarized the various characteristics of Hokkaido as he passed them. Every landmark had a name, every bird, tree and rainbow had a name. Everything had a name except a peculiar shrine that tried to hide in the falling leaves of a forest. A place like that should be the first thing to indicate but he didn't even name it. It went completely ignored by all except Tracy who had her eyes follow it all the way out of her sight.

Just when Tracy and Jack thought the tour was over, the instructor leads the bus passengers to yet another landmark where they are given permission to enter. They formed a line that trailed towards the door of a small building that he heard like a flock of sheep. One person at a time was to go through the door unless they were with a friend to go inside together.

Tracy was next on line. "Sir, we didn't pay for this. We have to go home."

He angles himself to her level and said with a smile, "this part of the tour is also one-hundred percent free. Please enjoy yourself."

She was quite the suspicious one for a girl her age, but her parents have yet to call. Tracy would go through the door with her brother and persuade herself that she was being foolish. When inside, Jack whispering "do you think the gift shop is free too?" to Tracy prompted her to roll her eyes.

The building was a museum founded on the history and myths surrounding Hokkaido. The sign outside advertises it as a museum but was unreadable to the monolingual English speakers. Reading letters that spelled Japanese words was difficult enough but reading kanji symbols was a whole other step of difficulty. Luckily, the tour instructor translated anything that mattered enough to be translated. The most notable was an ancient sword that jutted out of a stone like Excalibur. An evil version of Excalibur.

"Do you all know the story of Queen Orochi?" He quizzes with a hand floating over the hilt.

"Isn't that the creepy dude from Naruto?" Jack responded. Tracy clasped her face, _God does he think about anything besides Anime?_

Unlike Tracy, the audience of tourist got a kick out of his joke. The guide awaited for the laughs to clear away to continue the exhibit. Queen Orochi, also known as Demon Snake Queen Orochi, was not a fictional character. The figure was a queen whose reign was in feudal Japan who was believed to be possessed. In retrospect, the woman was likely severely mentally ill. She would be diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder if she were alive today.

"This sword holds her tormented soul," the instructor says, "if a future descendant were to touch it, Orochi will use them as a link so she can be freed."

Tracy felt like she was about to go blind - she fell into a deep sleep standing up but no one noticed her faded eyes. The rooms darkening seemed like an illusion and not the result of the lights adjusting. No one asked her if she was alright as she screamed in agony, because that was an illusion too. Lost in a dream that she knew was a dream.

In this darkness, she can't see where that "thhhhsss" came from. It sounded too harsh to be the purring of a slim stream of water, water being the source made sense as she was standing in a flood that reached halfway up her calf. The museum was over flowing until it will eventually became an oceanic metropolis. But no one was running around shouting in terror, there was no one around at all.

"Little girl, little girl."

Someone called out for her, it was an overlap of a man and a woman's voice and the "thhhhsss" in the background. The closer Tracy was the sound, the more she was starting to figure out that it was one singular voice. It was a woman speaking with the echoes of the elusive distant walls powering it to sound deeper and masculine. The seductive purr juxtaposed the flickering tongue of a cannibal that hissed like a fire.

Tracy found herself standing before a set of steel pillars where the water seeped through. The darkness was even blacker beyond them but she dare not follow the stream. If fact, she took many steps back to get ready to evade whatever lied in the shadows. Standing afar from them will display a cage fit for an enormous animal. She was not incorrect, the prisoner let its eyes be seen through the threshold of the bars. They lit up the darkness like yellow lanterns the size of two minivans. Their glow radiated the bottom of its face from the mile-long twin fangs to the leathery chin of indistinguishable color.

"Be my friend, little girl... free me from here." It, or she rather, begged.

How? Tracy didn't have the slightest clue how, not that she thought it was a smart idea to release a monster. She's in a cage for a reason. The dragon licked her chops with a red ribbon of a tongue that was forked at the tip.

"Little girl!" Said someone other than the monster.

Tracy blinked, and all the lights turned back on. There was no cage, no dragon, no hissing. Tracy was alone in the last museum exhibit she occupied, Queen Orochi's prison. Her trembling hand was loose around the hilt of the sealed blade. The finger digits were spidery yet tied up around it in knots. Much to the horror of a man she's never seen before.

He was dressed head to toe in black garbs with only a blood colored oni mark giving his appearance color. His black gloved hand twisted her arm with a firm rotating squeeze. Her bare arms were dirtied with inky markings that traveled all over her skin. Those gloves must be filthy, Tracy thinks.

"You've released the Demon Queen!"


	3. Chapter 3

"You've released the Demon Queen!"

The situation was so surreal Tracy was sure she was still hallucinating; a random man in a monster mask has shown up to scold her for something she didn't understand while her arms were festooned in stray markings. They got in formation and took the shape of Japanese character symbols. Tracy wasn't even sure she touched the magical ancient swords that trapped Orochi, or that she was a descendant of Orochi in the first place. Or that this superstitious hodgepodge of lore was anything but fictitious.

"You leave me no choice," said the masked man in a grave voice. He gripped something that stuck out of his pant leg and pulled.

Tracy gasped when the edge of a katana started to grow from his pocket. The masked man withdrew it and pointed the tip between her eyes, she shielded her fragile head with a blocking hand in the space between her and the blade. Her dark eyes dropped a few tears and she prepared to die. She's cursed, and this man is going to bloody kill her before Orochi could hatch from her gut or something. Tracy didn't want to be sacrificed, she was only a child.

A force that was unseen by her, pushed her down. The blade thrust above her head and chopped away parts of her hair. The pin-straight follicles rained slowly to the floor with their owner fleeing the scene. Tracy's footsteps were duplicated by an accompanying protector who helped her escape. It was her brother who took her to the side and made her hide with him in a secretive corner.

"I can't find our tour group," Jack whimpered.

"Forget that," Tracy said breathlessly, "we have to get out of here."

A shattering vase alerted them to heart-pounding magnitudes; Tracy pressed her hand hard against the mouth of a crying Jack. The masked man was evidently smashing artifacts in his desperate search for the girl with kanji tattoos. He cursed and put up a fuss trying to get his hands on her, waving his sword and cutting through everything that wasn't nailed down. Tracy pinpointed the direction he came from and the direction he was heading. Wherever he was heading, she grabbed Jack and went the opposite way. The brother felt like a rag doll being dragged around but his life possibly depending on his big sister's instincts. If he was able to help her evade a sword going in her brain, then she will be able to keep them safe.

The masked man, wielding his deadly katana, jumped out of the corner. To his dismay, no one was hiding there anymore. He curses some more but continues his search with obsessive tunnel vision. Tracy and Jack could have only escaped down one path, that was the path he explored.

The children were proven faster than him and successfully vanished from his line of vision. They found refuge in the museum's gift shop, where not a single person was present. There was nary a cashier standing behind the counter or browsing customers. Tracy ravaged the counter for a phone when she realized her cellular device was malfunctioning. She pinned down the home button but the screen would only fade to white and disappear to black again. A phone for employees would presumably be in plain sight and yet she spent some time hunting for it.

"Look, free pocky," chuckled Jack.

Tracy looked up and witnessed her brother tearing open a snack box from the selection rack. A pretzel-like cookie was placed at the corner of his mouth like an edible cigar and smiled like a stereotypical Cuban drug dealer.

"You're gonna get us arrested!" Reprimanded Tracy in a sharp whisper.

"Relax, no one's here. That samurai guy killed everybody."

"Don't say things like that; how are we supposed to know for sure?"

"Notice how everybody disappeared once he showed up? Our tour group? The workers?"

"Everybody... but us." Tracy sunk to the floor and hugged her knees close until she was a human ball of hopelessness.

Footsteps knocked on the floor, they could have belonged to two-tons of man by the pressure of the steps. But he was quick, like a heavyweight ninja. They stamped down the stairs of the building in earshot of the terrified siblings. Unlike before, there was no escape. No route they could take to get away from the blood hungry warrior. It was only a matter of time before he has them backed against the wall where he wanted them.

Tracy's hand wandered the ground for any weapon she could use to defend herself and Jack. Her hand found something better; she let her fingers run down an unidentifiable wall unit and was able to tell what it was. Right when the masked man raises his sword in the air, Tracy hit it as hard as humanly possible.

The gift shop was engulfed in seizure-inducing flashes that made their pursuer pause for a moment. He withdrew his armed katana and in its place, took a new item from his person. The white pellets in his palms clanked together as they shuffled like a handful of marbles. They were tossed before Tracy and Jack and created a cloud of clear but opaque smoke, it ate them in its vast belly rendering them blinded. The little ones coughed the noxious fumes from their systems until they were left with sore throats.

When the smoky cloud went away, so has the masked man. So has the gift shop. The fresh air of the natural outdoors blessed their fogged lungs, skies of blue surrounded them instead of high gray ceilings. It wasn't Hokkaido, not how it looked when they last seen at least. Tracy went to check for any wounds on the hand she punched in the glass of the fire alarm with. To her surprise, they writing on her arms became understandable in an instantly. The scripture did not change languages but Tracy somehow could grasp what it said in an abridged fashion.

 ** _Fear won't keep you safe from death fear won't keep you safe from death fear won't keep you safe from death_**

Jack quirked an eyebrow at his sister, who recited it out loud. He took her arm by him to examine it as well, and was too able to recite it in English.

"Tracy, we can read Japanese."

Tracy turned her head from east to west in search of an explanation. All she saw was a valley of grass with nomads traveling up and down it. The strange people wore straw hats as broad as umbrellas, they carried buckets held up by a stick on their backs. No one had clothes like Jack and Tracy's, which the people noticed with judgement.

A nomadic woman pointed at Tracy's hoodie and gossiped in another woman's ear. They clucked about how funny looking it looked, how untraditional it was. One said she must have been a native from China because of how tan she was compared to them.

"She wears the color purple; the color of death," whisper another who was still focused on the subject of her hoodie, "those two could be a morbid bunch. Or murderers."

Not only could Tracy apparently read Japanese, she could understand it just as clearly. And Jack did too - neither wanted this gift however. That man in the blood red oni mask teleported them somewhere they did not comprehend. Where the buildings were simple and formed with brick and the roads were filled with people instead of cars. The technically advancements of Hokkaido were downgraded to crafts little more than ones from the Stone Age. Signs were not lit up in electronic bulbs but carved in wood or engraved in stone.

An evil wind breezed through the siblings' flesh as coldly as ice. Tracy never felt more like a wind chime in the relic that is the strong winds of Ancient Japan. A stallion dashed against it as if it was a light zephyr and was ordered to halt in the wake of Tracy and Jack's appearance. The master was clad in pitch black clothing with no headgear exclusivity a familar horrid mask with high fangs, gaping nostrils and hellish red skin. Before the horse could charge their way, they sprinted away the best their little legs allowed.

Tracy and Jack stopped an elderly village woman from entering her own home. Although they begged their hearts out for shelter from an dark pursuer, she was wary of the strange kanji tattooed child. Jack flashes her with a last resort he held between his fingers like a certificate of freedom. In reality, it was merely one of his Pokemon trading cards. This card was prestigious with its holographic texture and little resistance during schoolyard games.

"Now's not the time!" His sister exclamation.

He ignores her and locked his attention on the woman. "This is an extremely rare valuable in my village. It is worth more than that house you live in. Let us stay here and it is yours."

The house's owner receives the card, examining it with skeptical eyes. Tracy anticipated that she will be offended by the offer, especially since Jack adopted an extremely phony oriental accent that was too offensive even for the Japanese boy to use.

"Bulba...saur?"

Jack finally got his translation but was disappointed by the results. He knew what the name of the character in the card was but hoped for more elaboration. Not to mention the fact that he forgot he could read Japanese anyway. In more important matters, the old lady was ecstatic about his gift. She excepted the trade, believing the hype of the game card's value, and took the two children inside.

The abode was humble to say the least yet had plentiful options for hiding places. Jack took to a cabinet underneath the sink while Tracy stayed hidden in a footlocker. It made her feel like she was in a coffin during a premature funeral. The lips on her face were too frozen to solicit a word as she heard a third visitor break through the door of the house.

His heavy feet creaked the wood panels into submission with every step. He was agonizingly silent otherwise, up until he speaks to the elderly woman.

"I seek a girl with writing on her skin," he said in blunt confidence that she will satisfy his wishes.

She gives him a conniving laugh and leads him to her trunk. He smooths his hands over the cover longingly as soon as she informed him of Tracy's location. Carefully but quickly, he removes it from the rest of the footlocker. A sobbing Tracy was forcefully ripped apart from the hiding spot. Jack came out from his and fearlessly charged the man who was eight times his size. The man knocked the boy onto his backside and said that he had no use for him. Tracy was all he desired.

Tracy was locked away in a wooden operculum of some sorts that was attacked to the braces on the mask man's steed. Villagers gathered to see the girl being stolen by him under unusual circumstances. The horse made his rounds away from the town by the orders of his master. Tracy would never step foot on Ezochi soil again.


	4. Chapter 4

Dark master thrusts among the throngs of people carrying his prisoner world's apart from the valley. He and Tracy rolled down a hill and into the woods beneath the fall; the girl bit down on her chatting tongue, causing it to be too numb to ask for details. Tracy was not one of those who think that not knowing is better than knowing - not knowing was definitely worse. A repetition of an ominous phrase etched itself in her skin and a bedeviled figure stalks her to the ends of earth. Abandoned Jack will be loafing around the village like an outcast waiting for his sister. She will be executed at worst or arrested forever at best.

The masked man halts his horse in his shoe-prints, and he stops too. His senses must reach superhuman proportions because he claims that the presence of interlopers are watching them from above the trees. He unsheathed the katana from its utility holder on his person, it sprouted a mind of its own that reigned dominance over the weirder. The katana led a dance with him as they turned in the air and cut up the leaves. He had the power to take all of the heads of the watchers but bide his time. There was a sense of curiosity that held him back from inflicting life threatening damage without knowing who he would be harming. It was something he had in common with Tracy: the thirst for a better understanding.

More figures, just as dark as he, presented themselves to him. They descended from the trees in graceless glides like big black bats. Each one was armed with a bow and a quiver of arrows strapped on every back. The figures adjusted their posture so the straw hats they wore cast a shadow over their obscured eyes. Even the hats were black and woven with an ashy gray root of a plant.

"That girl belongs to Orochi-sama," said a cohort as she dispenses an arrow.

Tracy sunk in her wooden cage to sadly think why everything surrounded her recently. She did not intend to touch that magic sword at the museum. She did not even know she has done so in the first place. There was a dream, then a snake, then an oni mask. Now, she stood in the center of a crisis she had nothing to do with.

Her captor swipes the air with his sword the moment the ready arrow was flung his way. The arrow is cut into strips that hit the ground lighter than feathers. While he was preoccupied with what was in front of him, more ammunition is fired at him. The usually skilled warrior was pelted into a submissive pile on the floor. One archer had a spare arrow, before he withdrew it in his quiver, Tracy saw a drip fall off the sharp end. It was of a clear substance that laced it and filled the bloodstream of whoever will be impaired by it.

The former handler of her being rendered obsolete, Tracy was taken by her new hoard of handlers. The gang of archers walked by the cart to guard her, the head mounted the horse and yanked at its reigns. The steed was too loyal to its original rider to be obedient at first but the head was very convincing in a threatening way. A single squeeze of the ribs and it followed any directions they pleased. The cart was driven down a separate route and was heading towards a castle of a temple. It was the most intimidating temple Tracy has ever seen, besides the one from Hokkaido, which it suspiciously resembled.

Tracy was guided through the door and made to walk along unfriendly hallways filled with ghastly red flags. Splats of blood followed her feet in the shape of red shooting stars. Tracy was taken to a room with a transparent wall splitting it evenly in two halves. The silhouette of a sitting woman was standalone, implying that the rest of her side of the room was empty. Head archer gets on his knees to grovel before her with the addition of exploiting Tracy.

"I've been waiting here for you... for so very long," the woman moans, sounding deeply in pain. Her silhouette gradually raises on her feet; she slides the screen to the right once she got up to put herself in plain view.

Queen Orochi was finally revealed and Tracy did not expect her to look any different. A svelte, snake-like woman with clean white skin sans for the brown circles hanging under her ennui struck eyes. The most unusual aspect of her ethereal design was the color of her hair, it was only a shade darker than pine green. Some black haired individuals can come across as having Persian Blue hair but green tinted hair was unheard-able to Tracy.

"They had forsaken me; my family, friends and servants forsaken me. But not you... you will help me, will you not?"

No response was elicited from a frozen Tracy. This set Orochi to be more aggressive, while still maintaining the poise of a monarch. She manipulated the little girl with the unreliable stroking of her head, it was obvious that she was willing to do whatever it takes. Tracy was still left without answer on what purpose she had to serve. If only that was obvious as well. Descent or no descent, Tracy felt a sick connection to Orochi. The color of her hair was formerly the only alien thing about her according to Tracy but that was before she had a good look into her eyes. The tired weary eyes were yellow like those of a she-wolf, the pupils thinned into the shape of an oval.

Her eyes were windows to a soul so toxic and impure. No matter how weathered by the world she was, no matter how much the world has failed her, Tracy battled her empathy. She shook her head with a standoffish stance as firm as a boulder. Queen Orochi would have none of that, a vice grip took Tracy's neck by surprise that squeezed the life from it. She tried to claw at the pearl glazed hand but couldn't manage to find a vulnerable patch of skin.

"You _are_ going to be my link. You _are_ going to become me. And the demon snake within my body _will_ be yours instead."

"No!" Tracy howled. The final breaths keeping her alive were ousted by what should be her last word. Orochi's grip softened but it seemed to be too late, the damage was done.

Tracy was put in yet another trance, glassy-eyed and mouth agape. The temple was shrouded in a total abyss with the rude awakening of her soaked jeans. She threaded the shallow ocean of her mind to find an effective solution. Riveted by the gentle cries of a weeping woman from the distance, Tracy heads towards her. The direction she remembered leading to a giant cage withholding a reptilian monster has been removed. Replacing it were a collection of chains extending from the mystery sky over the waters. They connected and latched to a human which Tracy found overkill, she predicted a similar monster to be appropriately snared.

The matted hair concealed much of herself from head to hips and wrapped her up in a wet green curtain. The hunching woman was wheezing for an impaling spear stricken her through the middle of her spine. A sword, the museum artifact, was stuck inside her bones and was killing her slowly. The debilitating equipment exhausted her, she was unable to take it further. But she cannot die. Tracy grappled the sword and wiggled it out of the tight gory space it was stuck in. The deep gash required the tender care of professional hands but she was determined to be a hero. Blood that was freed by the ejecting of the blade mixed with the surrounding water.

The no-longer impaled woman cried tears of joy. "Thank you, Tracy, thank you."

 **#**

 **Present day, Hokkaido**

Tracy yawned and opened her pinned close eyelids to a world of brightness. Her neck was stiff from the hard pavement of the floor; though she was now awake, her legs stayed sleeping. The hand squashed under her side also tingled from the suppressed nerves. Said hand did not have a scratch on it, or kanji marking rather. Her form was released of the cursed things for good. Tracy leveled herself with an adjacent support to get off the uncomfortable floor. And gasped under realization that it was the pedestal possessing Orochi's sealed sword. Jack snickered at his bumbling sister, overall seeming oblivious about her previous escapades.

"... And this is 'Sword of Tamago'," wraps up the tour instructor, "the blade that Princess Tamago saved the misunderstood Queen Orochi from."

 _ **THE END**_


End file.
